He’s hot and bad and when he looks at me it takes my breath away.
All the more reason to forget about him. I’m pretty sure breathing is a basic requirement to study medicine. And he’s given me the out I needed. If he doesn’t expect me to go to Mr Anderson on Monday and tell him what I saw, then I’m off the hook.
But forgetting doesn’t come easy.
Jonny rises from the front porch as I walk up the path. He slides his phone into his pocket and breaks into the smooth grin that used to make my heart flutter.
Now the only flutters I feel are of irritation.
‘Hey, babe.’ He takes a few loping steps towards me, without even glancing down at Lion.
I hesitate.
The smile vanishes. ‘Don’t be all pissed at me. I tried to make it last night and I’m here now.’
‘The dance is long finished.’
‘And I’m sure you looked gorgeous.’ The smooth charm is typical of Jonny. He’s never had a problem with saying the right words. And I’m pretty sure he used to mean them. But now, they just seem like a line to shut me up.
And they’re not working.
‘No traffic is that bad. Why say you’ll be my date only to stand me up in front of everyone?’
The tight frown marring his handsome face relaxes. ‘Oh, baby, you’re worried that people will think I dumped you. Don’t be, everyone knows we’re tight.’ He pulls me close and a moment later his teeth find my neck.
I arch away. ‘Not here.’
‘Loosen up. Your folks aren’t even home.’
Yeah, but half the street will report to them. I don’t say it aloud, though. He won’t care.
‘Let’s go inside,’ I say instead. I let Lion in the side gate first and then lead Jonny up the front steps. He hovers behind me while I unlock the door, then follows me through the kitchen where I grab a couple of drinks and head out to the backyard. Dad and Sean could be back at any moment and I’m in no hurry to break the ‘no boys in my bedroom’ rule.
Not for Jonny. Not when he’s only called once in the last two weeks and been ‘really busy’ every time I’ve called him. Busy with who?
‘Where were we?’ he asks, slipping his arms around me.
I crick my neck to look into his eyes but his sunglasses are too dark to see them. I can’t remember what colour they are. Rhett’s are almost black. Like bitter chocolate. The kind I’ve been told I’ll appreciate when I’m older.
Stop thinking about Rhett Barker.
I press my lips to Jonny’s, trying to lose myself and my swirling thoughts in his mouth. It works for a bit. Kissing Jonny is easy and familiar. For a little while it’s like before he went to uni.
‘That’s more like it,’ he murmurs, deepening the kiss.
And it’s nice. Not heart-stopping, nor mind-blowing, but we have been together for a while now. And I’ve missed him. At parties and movies when everyone else had a date. But most of all, I wanted him at my side when I walked into the dance last night.
Which reminds me. I pull back and catch my breath. ‘Why didn’t you show last night?’
He moves back in and keeps trying to nuzzle my neck. ‘Are you still going on about that? It doesn’t matter. We’re together now.’
‘It matters to me.’
He lets me go, then stalks over to the other side of the yard and stops beside the gate, which is double-latched in an attempt to keep Lion from pulling a Houdini. He plays with the bolt. ‘It was just a dance—’
‘And that’s so high school,’ I add before he gets the chance.
He looks back and runs a hand through his long dirty-blonde hair. ‘It is.’
I’m trying to remember why I liked him so much. Apart from the convenience of double dates with Bree, the whole best friends dating best mates thing, and the fact everyone said we make a perfect couple. Perfect would have been having him at my side last night. ‘And you’re past all that kid stuff now?’
He nods.
‘Past me?’
‘I didn’t say that.’ There’s an edge to his voice.
‘You didn’t,’ I admit. I don’t know why I’m being so mean. After all, he’s come around to see me and say sorry. Except he hasn’t actually said sorry.
He sighs, and there’s a glimpse of the boy who used to make me proud to be his girlfriend. The one I thought was so much more sensitive and mature than the rest of the boys at school. He collapses onto one of the wooden benches. ‘I can’t believe what happened to Hayds.’
I sit beside him. ‘You heard?’
He takes off his sunglasses and there’s pain in his blue eyes. Pain and anger. His hands ball into fists. ‘It’s messed up.’
How much does he know? I squirm and check the driveway through the gap in the side fence, where I’d see Dad’s car if they’d arrived home. Still empty. ‘Bree texted me that there’s been no change overnight.’
Jonny shakes his head. ‘That’s what I heard too.’ His jaw hardens. ‘Rhett fucking Barker shouldn’t have dared show his ugly face at the dance.’
I hadn’t considered how Hayden’s friends would react. ‘Wh—who have you spoken to?’
Jonny looks down at me as though it should be obvious. ‘Timmy. He was right there when the gutless prick king-hit Hayds and then had the nerve to say he didn’t do it.’
Words fail me.
I know Timmy was there. He was helping hold Rhett back so Hayden could teach him a lesson. Rhett doesn’t deserve this. Just like Scarlett didn’t deserve to be lured behind the art centre for whatever Hayden had planned with his friends.
But what does Sean deserve? What did he have planned for Scarlett?
The truth fills my mouth, but if I tell Jonny, I tell everyone, and I can’t do that to Sean. Not yet. Not when I’ve pretty much decided to keep quiet. What if Jonny’s anger at Rhett translates to anger at my brother?
But when I close my eyes, my memory replays the moment when Sean’s fist missed Rhett and connected with Hayden’s cheekbone.
‘I had a few drinks.’ The words jump out of my mouth. It’s not the whole truth, but it’s a start.
He blinks. ‘Big night at the dance, huh? Wish I’d been there to see the school captain let loose.’
‘I … saw what happened. After.’
‘You saw Hayden get hit?’
I nod.
He puts an arm around me. ‘It’s not your problem. I’ll sort out Rhett Barker.’
I don’t know if it’s last night’s alcohol or the truth sitting heavy in my belly, but all of a sudden I don’t feel too good. I look up at Jonny. ‘I think I’m going to be sick.’
He smirks.
I stand and stumble inside towards the downstairs bathroom.
‘Babe, I have to go,’ he calls, walking straight past the open door. ‘Mum’s birthday lunch.’
Right. The real reason he came back from the city. I go out into the hall, holding my arm across my body. He’s already got one hand on the front door. ‘Wish her a happy birthday for me.’
‘I will. And don’t forget it’s bonfire night.’
I frown. Traditionally the night after the big dance is the greeting the sun party, down on the beach. ‘I thought it wouldn’t go ahead because of Hayden.’
‘Nah, he’d want us to be there.’
‘I don’t know …’ I’m in no mood for it, and I can’t muster the energy to fake interest.
Jonny frowns. ‘If you don’t come tonight, we won’t get to see each other. I’m heading back early tomorrow for a party at the dorm. Everyone’s going.’
‘And how could seeing your girlfriend compete with a party at uni?’ I mutter.
But his eyes are on his phone and he’s already opening the door. ‘So I’ll see you tonight.’ He indicates my stomach. ‘Have a nap, you’ll feel better.’
Then he’s gone.
And so is my nausea.
* * *
Jonny was right about one thing: I feel a lot better after a nap and some music. Playing
my old acoustic guitar drives everything else from my brain. With the wood in my hands and the strings beneath my fingers I’m able to forget everyone’s expectations and let go.
It’s past two and my fingertips are sore when my stomach rumbles, reminding me of the breakfast I avoided and the lunch I slept through. I splash some water on my face and brush my hair before heading downstairs in search of food.
Dad and Sean arrived home about an hour ago. Dad looked in to make sure I was home, and I made sure to have a book on my lap and my guitar out of sight when he opened the door.
My headache flares to life at the squeal of an electric guitar solo as I pass Sean’s bedroom, and my feet stop.
I stand in front of my brother’s door but don’t knock. Keep walking. I ignore what my good sense is trying to tell me. My legs are heavy, and guilt sticks me to the carpet like superglue. My guilt. Sean’s guilt.
This is stupid. I have no good reason to tell.
I should walk down those stairs, eat something and then get ready for tonight’s party. It’s the logical option. And I intend to do just that.
But before I know it, I’m knocking, and my heart is racing.
There’s a grunt from inside. It’s as close to an invitation as I’m likely to get. I open the door and am met by a wave of boy smell. Piles of dirty socks and unwashed football gear block the door, and I struggle to open it. Mum would freak if my room looked like this, but untidiness without consequences is a perk of being the football genius. I breathe again and almost gag. Maybe he only gets away with it because Mum can’t bring herself to come in here.
Slouched back on his bed in jeans and an old football top, Sean doesn’t look up from the game he’s playing, but uses his foot to mute the music. ‘What do you want?’
Nice.
I can’t help noticing the knuckles on his right hand where he grips the edge of the handheld game are red and swollen.
He looks up and sees the direction of my gaze. He frowns and drops his hand to the quilt. ‘What do you want?’ He’s looking at me now and he’s pissed.
Um … I wave at the bandage across his toes. ‘How’s your foot?’ It’s not what I came in here to say, but it’s a start.
‘Awesome, what do you reckon?’ Obviously deciding I have nothing else to say, he returns his attention to the small screen. There’s the tinny sound of guns blasting and bombs exploding.
Part of my brain is screaming at me to shut up and just go, but I ignore it. ‘Sean, we have to talk about the dance.’
His head snaps up. Now I have his full attention. ‘Don’t you have a test to study for? Someone to suck up to?’
‘I was there.’ I blurt the words I hadn’t intended to say.
He pales, but recovers fast. ‘I know, Mum picked us both up, remember? When lover boy didn’t show. Not that I’m surprised. He’s probably hooking up every night at uni.’
I flinch but Jonny is the least of my problems. ‘I was there,’ I say again. Softer this time. Staring into eyes the exact same shade of brown that I see when I look in the mirror.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he says roughly, but now he doesn’t look me in the eye.
‘I’m talking about three boys who should know better, cornering a girl against the wall. Her brother coming to her rescue.’ His head ducks in shame. ‘It was you who hit Hayden.’
He jumps to his feet, and for the first time I appreciate just how much my little brother has grown. I step back. He paces to the window and looks out towards the distant sea. In profile, the clench of his jaw is stark, with a pulse beating visibly in his neck. ‘I don’t care what you think you saw. I didn’t do it. You heard, everyone heard, Timmy backed me up to Ando.’
‘Just because someone is willing to back up your lie, doesn’t make it true.’
He turns then, suddenly an awkward, uncomfortable kid again, and the dark shadows under his eyes tell of his sleepless night. ‘Don’t tell. Please. You’ll wreck everything.’
‘But—’
‘Football is everything to me. If the school found out, or Coach …’ His voice wavers. ‘There are strict rules about fighting. I’d be off the team. Or worse.’ A hard swallow. ‘Hayden might not wake up.’
‘Would losing the team really be so bad? It’s just a game.’
His eyes narrow. ‘To you, maybe. For me, it’s the only way I’m ever going to get out of this town. Not everyone is a born nerd with universities falling over themselves to offer them academic scholarships. Football is my only chance. For all your brains I thought you’d understand that.’
I’m reminded of Rhett and his dig about having to work for a living. I flush. ‘You can still go to uni, Sean. Mum and Dad—’
Sean actually laughs. ‘For someone who gets As in her sleep you’re pretty dumb. You really haven’t figured why they’re pushing the scholarship and football so hard?’
‘Like?’ But I’m halfway there before he answers. ‘Oh god, it’s obvious.’ The shared looks, the stress, Dad’s odd socks. My stomach sinks to fall somewhere alongside the pair of crumpled sweatpants at my feet. ‘I’ve been so wrapped up in study I didn’t even notice.’
‘There’s no money.’ He speaks slowly, so moronic me can follow. ‘When Dad leaves for “work” each day—’ he makes air quotes with this fingers, ‘—he’s really going to interviews for shitty jobs that no-one else wants but that he still doesn’t get because he’s overqualified.’
It makes sense. ‘But how did you know all this when I didn’t?’
‘You didn’t want to know.’
My phone rings. Bree, I mouth to Sean.
‘Hey,’ I say. ‘How’s Hayden?’ Sean turns back to the window, but I can tell that he’s listening from his tense grip on the edge of the desk.
‘No change.’ Bree sighs.
‘Oh no, that’s awful.’ At my answer Sean’s head bows.
‘It’s really full-on here,’ Bree continues, and I drag my attention away from my brother and try to keep up with what she’s saying. ‘I don’t know if I’ll make the party tonight. Mrs Chapman keeps telling me how wonderful it is that I’m staying by Hayden’s side, and I don’t want to be seen as the bad girlfriend.’
‘I can’t believe you’re even thinking about the party.’
‘It’s not my priority, obviously,’ she snaps. ‘But I have a lot of time on my hands.’
‘I don’t know if I’ll go anyway.’
‘You have to. We can’t both miss the biggest social event of the year.’
‘I thought that was last night,’ I murmur.
She doesn’t seem to hear. ‘I’ll be relying on you to report on everything. Think of it as doing your bit for Hayden. Anyway, could you do me a favour? I need another jacket. The air-conditioning in here is set to arctic.’
I’m still trying to make sense of exactly how me going to a party and gossiping about it is doing anything for Hayden. I guess if it makes Bree feel better …
‘Look, if you’re too busy to even come by the hospital …’ Her words fade pitifully.
‘I’m not. I’ll be there soon. Do you want me to swing by your place?’
‘No, your red bolero jacket will do. I love how it looks with my boots.’
‘O-kay.’
‘Thanks.’
‘And let me know about Hayden, I mean if there’s any change …’
She hangs up before I finish and I’m left looking at Sean’s stiff back. His bruised knuckles are clear in the light from the window. And my phone is in my hands. I snap a picture.
He turns at the sound. ‘What was that?’
‘Bree. She needs me to go past the hospital.’
He looks closer. ‘Did you just take a photo?’
‘I …’ can’t lie, apparently. The denial gets caught in my throat.
He doesn’t wait for a response, striding across the room and grabbing the phone out of my hand. He swings his arm.
Smash.
My phone hits the wall i
n the hallway. Sean shoves me back through the open door after it. I stumble, my heart thudding, and stare dumbly at him like he’s just sprouted horns.
Sean’s unrepentant. ‘Keep your mouth shut about whatever it is you think you saw. It’s best for everyone.’
The door slams.
‘What’s going on up there?’ The question comes from Dad at the foot of the stairs.
I pick up my phone with its cracked screen and cross to the top, stopping a healthy distance from the edge. ‘Nothing,’ I reply, but avoid looking down the stairs.
‘Everything’ would be more accurate. I sneak a glance at Dad’s face, still trying to process everything Sean said. Trying not to think too hard about what Sean did.
Dad’s aged in the last few months while I’ve been wrapped up in all things study and scholarship. The laughter lines that have always wrinkled his eyes have become deep crevasses, and the faint worry lines across his forehead are now grooves of stress. Could my dad really be unemployed?
It’s impossible. You’d think it might have come up at the dinner table. Like, By the way, guys, we’ll be cutting back for a while.
I need to know. ‘Dad, are you okay?’
The frown lines deepen. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ he says lightly. He’s always been my superhero, and I was proud to be Daddy’s little girl.
‘It’s just …’ But I can’t bring myself to make things worse. ‘No reason.’
He smiles his usual crooked grin and pushes his glasses up on his nose. Maybe Sean has it wrong. Maybe we’re adding two and two and coming up with fifty-one. He’s Dad. He’d tell me if there was something going on.
He gestures me down and waits till I’m on his level before continuing. He knows how I feel about heights. ‘You find out about the scholarship on Monday, don’t you?’ It’s a casual question, but I think I hear a tinge of desperation behind it.
‘I think so.’
‘Have I told you how proud I am of you? Not just the scholarship. Everything about you. You’re growing up so fast.’
‘Aww, Dad.’ I crinkle my nose in embarrassment and blush. Would he think I’m such a great person if he knew I was planning on screwing up a stranger’s life rather than risking mine and Sean’s? Or would he be glad I put family first?
What I Saw Page 6